A brief glow of incandescence
casts it’s golden shadow
along the corridors of time
a fragile silver thread
by which we cling
to the very breath of life.
And all around
the swirling cosmos
is full of nothing
while stars blaze for a moment
then fall, cold and still
into the gaping void
that nought escapes.
Back and forth
the loom it shuttles
thread on thread
in frenetic energy
and then is spent
still beneath the weavers hand
and nothing’s left to show
except the tapestry designed.
The threads are cut
the design held up
before each and every eye,
God’s hand bears down
to test the strength
of the weave and of the cloth
searching for the colours
that should be chosen
to line the corridors of time.
by Kristin Jack, who lived with his family for 17 years in Cambodia. From his book Poetry and Prophecy
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